


Solidarity in Solitude

by FixaIdea



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7348531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixaIdea/pseuds/FixaIdea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan learns that he's not the only one with a cruel mistress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solidarity in Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> A Tumblr prompt that turned out a bit longer than intended. Direct sequel to 'The Case of the Missing Romantic'.

The late spring night was warm and cheerful around Jean Prouvaire as he made his way home from the latest ABC meeting. He let the bustling of the ever busy city wash through him, sing to him, inspire him. He smiled to himself: an idea that kept pestering him for the last couple of days but which he was unable to pin down was slowly taking proper shape in his head. All he had to do was get home to write it down. 

Ah, he could see it already, how glorious it will be to settle down onto his settee into a nest of pillows, pull out his favourite booklet…

…Except it would be quite impossible, seeing how he left the accursed thing at the Musain. When the evening turned from serious discussion to friendly chatter he had pulled it out to read some of his latest works to Bahorel and he never put it away!

Sighing, the little poet turned in his tracks and trudged back to the café. Once in the now empty back room, all it took was a cursory glace to locate the book - he picked it up and turned to leave. And paused.

Across the room, in a corner just barely illuminated by the single lamp someone left on one of the tables he could spot a pile of scattered books and papers. He stepped closer to examine them, scratching his head.

He almost missed Enjolras. He sat by the wall, not completely wedged into the corner but close, head on his knees, in complete silence. By all appearances he’d dropped his books, got down on the floor to gather them but never actually got about to complete the task.

Jehan crouched down beside him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. No reaction. He carefully smoothed his hand down his arm, up, and down again, scooted closer so he could stroke his back… Still, nothing.

Jehan was at loss. He was no stranger to sudden waves of melancholy but, even though he almost always looked a little sad, Enjolras was the last person he could picture giving in to one. Unsure whether his presence was helping or even wanted but desperate to do something constructive Jehan stood to at least pick up the scattered books and papers.

‘Please don’t leave.’

It was said so quietly, for a moment Jehan was sure he just imagined it. But Enjolras was looking at him now, face hollow, eyes dry but a little too bright. Jehan’s heart twisted painfully. He sat down beside his friend and gingerly pulled him into a hug.

With a shaky sigh Enjolras melted into his embrace. He wound his arms around the poet’s thin torso and folded up his long body so he could tuck his head under his chin. Overrun by a mixture of concern, alarm and affection Jehan clutched him to his chest, petting his hair.

Silence reigned. Jehan knew better than to press for reasons and Enjolras offered no explanation on his own. He merely sat there, sagging against Jehan, listless, worn.

In theory, obviously, everybody knew that Enjolras was only human but everyone, Jehan himself included found this difficult to keep in mind. Radiant, beautiful Enjolras, the spirit of the Revolution descended straight from Heaven to bring hope to the mortals… How could one possibly comprehend that such a luminous being had limits? Jehan squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden sting of tears.

‘Say Jehan’ Enjolras whispered against his neck, voice rough and colourless ‘Do you recall what you said about devoting yourself to the Ideal?’

He did. A couple of weeks prior, Jehan had been cruelly rejected by the lady of his dreams, subject of countless poems and nights spent pining. He was devastated and he cried his heart out in the arms of the first person who found him - who happened to be Enjolras. Jehan lamented that his constant mistake with women was loving Love more than the real, flesh and blood girl in front of him, and just how tired he was of this. Because of course, beautiful thing that Love was, it couldn’t hold you, it couldn’t kiss you or chat and make jokes with you or welcome you home after a long day.

Jehan bent  his head and dropped a kiss on Enjolras’ hair.

‘Do you mean to say that the Revolution is just as neglectful a mistress as the ideals I am prone to chasing?’

For a moment Enjolras didn’t react, but after a while he nodded - a movement barely perceptible. Jehan pulled him even closer, considering what should be said with great care. For the words they exchanged the other day weren’t the only thing he could recall. He also remembered the way Enjolras treated him - with a kindness only surprising to those who didn’t know him very well. He couldn’t let him down now. He wouldn’t.

‘You feel lonely. You return to an empty flat, every night day after day after day. It hurts, love, I know it does. But I want you to know you are not alone. Your friends love you, they cherish you and they will always be there for you. I know _I_ will.

Enjolras made a little choked sound and gave Jehan a final squeeze before pulling away. His eyes were red but he looked definitely more alert and alive.

He scrambled to his feet and pulled up Jehan with him.

‘Thank you my friend. I’m truly sorry you had to deal with this…’

Jehan raised an eyebrow and wagged a finger at him.

‘You didn’t think I was an inconvenience to you when you had to console me did you?’

‘What?! Of course not.’

‘Well then. Don’t you ever think comforting _you_ is a hardship for _me_. You are my friend and you deserve nothing but kindness and love, you understand?’

Jehan grinned as Enjolras nodded, smiling a bit sheepishly. The little poet stood on tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his friend’s cheek.

‘Good night, my dear. All will be well. You are loved.’


End file.
